Decency, Explained
by forever-ioand-ever
Summary: Either the Lieutenant is too perceptive, or Henry is just getting a bit careless. Either way, Henry's backed into a corner with only one way out... AU a la Death, Poorly Timed.


It was a good day at the 11th precinct. Yet another murderer was behind bars, thanks to some DNA evidence, a sloppy alibi, and Henry's strangely detailed knowledge concerning the workings of 19th century razorblades, and the final showdown, to put it in overly dramatic terms, had occurred shortly before the 9-to-5-ers clocked out for the day, leading to a larger than usual amount of praise and congratulations for the detectives' job well done.

"I could get used to this," Hanson said under his breath as yet another rookie offered his hand, along with a string of admiring praises. The detective took it with a wide grin and an almost-fake sounding thank you. Jo brushed it off with a shy smile and claimed it wasn't all that big of a deal, which Hanson then berated her for, because, after all, it had been _her_ idea to look for the suspect in his former workplace, where they found him and duly arrested him, with a paucity of fanfare compared to their reception back at the station. She would've then launched into an argument of how the praise _really_ should have gone to Henry for remembering a customer that came into Abe's shop inquiring after the very razor that was used to kill the victim, but the doctor appeared uncomfortable with the lauding as it was, with only the smallest of praises directed toward himself.

"It's not as wonderful as it looks," Henry quipped in aside to the gloating detective as he himself edged away from the ring of admirers.

A look of confusion crossed Hanson's features as Henry's words processed in his mind and combined with the image of the good doctor leaving the praise he deserved. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience, Doc. What's so wonderful that you've ever done that you refuse a little glory?"

Now all eyes turned to Henry. Who was still edging his way out of the group but stopped short at the feeling of dozens of pairs of eyes trained on his back. He slowly turned around to face his silent accusers, because, when immortal, all inquiries into the private aspects of one's life must be approached with paranoia of the exposure of the secret. And Henry was quite adept at paranoia when it came to his immortality.

"I... ah..."

"Let me guess," Jo broke in. "It's either a long story, it's complicated, or it's a long and complicated story."

A few officers, Hanson included, suppressed a grin. All too many times had they heard those excuses from the doctor's mouth, always concerning his own personal life. Describing the recreation of Jack the Ripper's work was more straightforward for the man than explaining why he disliked microwaves or cell phones.

"You've hit the nail on the head with that one, Detective," the doctor smiled sheepishly. "And it being so long and complicated, I'd rather not begin the telling."

"Oh, come on, Henry," Hanson came behind him and gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "You've got time."

Henry remained, with Hanson's arm around his shoulders, wondering how in the world he would get out of this, when his salvation strode through her office door.

"No, he doesn't." Reece commanded over the hubbub. At the sound of her voice, all silenced. Hanson slowly removed his arm from Henry's shoulders, eyes trained on his superior the entire time. Henry breathed a sigh of relief, yet was still apprehensive. Reece wouldn't say something to simply allow him to leave in peace. He watched the woman with as much trepidation as the rest of the bullpen, maybe even more.

"Dr. Morgan, a word."

Henry started back at her, wide eyed. Surely this wasn't about the case? He had barely ever breached protocol-except for bringing in his personal razors circa his first marriage to compare to the wounds. Had he left trace evidences of the metals on the body? No, no, he'd double-triple checked them, him and Lucas both. There was also that tiny matter of having had to steal the Frenchman's ledger again, but that was when he still believed the wound to be from a more exotic weapon than the everyday straight razor.

All this rapid-fire thinking was but a moment, a moment when the Lieutenant gave Henry a stern nod, and so he relented and followed her into the office.

"Have a seat, Henry." Reece pointed to the chairs in front of her desk. She walked behind the imposing piece of furniture (though moreso would it have been made of real mahogany and not a factory-made mimicry) and pulled out a thick Manila folder from her file drawer. Henry watched as she slowly leafed through the pages, every nerve in his body transmitting messages of sheer panic. Why, he didn't quite know. Yet.

"Ah, here it is," Reece pulled a packet, if one could call it that, from the folder. It was a mere four pages stapled together, nothing tremendous at all, or at least it shouldn't have been. "Do you remember two certain conversations we had in this very office on the nights of December ninth and tenth? These will jog you're memory if you're forgetting."

Reece gave him the packet, which was actually two fastened together with a small clip, but Henry didn't need those to remember the nights in question.

"The case involving my stalker." He offered quietly. "Yes, Lieutenant. I remember quite well."

Reece paced along her wall, running a hand on the emptiest shelf on her bookcase, the shelf she'd reserved for photographs and knickknacks that, were she honest with herself, would never actually make it into the office. "I'm not talking about Walker, Henry."

She saw his posture crumble, at least as much as Henry let his posture crumble, shoulders just a bit sagged, head lowered in either guilt or shame, as of yet she couldn't quite tell.

"Henry, when I said 'no more night swims' I meant 'no more public indecency.' We can't have a core member of this force repeatedly breaking the law, we can't have _any_ member of this force breaking a law."

Henry made no motion to counter, so Reece continued.

"What concerns me, Henry, on top of the fact that you have yet to file a diagnostic session with a sleep specialist or prove in any way that you are working toward solving the sleepwalking issue... I've reviewed your file from civil. Henry, half of these arrests are in broad daylight! You can't possibly expect me to believe you've been sleepwalking naked _on the job._

"Those were my days off." Henry offered in a straightforward manner. He folded his hands in his lap, hoping that the calm, casual visage would dispel any thoughts of his quick-drawn alibi being a blatant lie. Reece raised her brow, pulled another file from the dossier, this one thicker with more than the ubiquitous forms he'd filled out all too many times for his unnatural returns to life.

"September 21, 6:35PM. A subway train that we have identified you as a passenger of derails, killing fourteen passengers and the conductor." Reece flipped the page, which Henry saw now was a photocopy of Jo's notes on the case that brought them together.

"September 21, 6:40PM. Dr. Henry Morgan arrested for public indecency on the bank of the East River. I'm no mathematician, but even if you were somehow able to disembark a _moving_ subway train, there was no way possible that you could get from those tunnels, to your home, undress, fall asleep, and sleepwalk yourself into the river in five minutes time."

"The facts don't add up, Dr. Morgan. I want the full, unadulterated truth, and until I get the truth, you will _not_ be working any cases for this department. I need to be able to trust my team. Do you understand?"

{•*•*•*•}

"Abraham, we're leaving."

"What? No 'Hello, son, how was your day?'" Abe stood at the stove, stirring a large pot of what smelled to be chicken soup. "Since you asked, a bit slow, but I did managed to sell that oak cabinet." The older-looking man set the wooden spoon on the counter and looked at his father. "What do you mean, we're leaving?"

"If you're not, at the very least I am." He pulled a chair to the kitchen island and took a seat across the room from his son, slouching into it in a very un-Henry-like way.

Abe immediately recognized that look of defeat in his father's eyes, that look he'd get when someone was all too close to discovering his secret. He abandoned the soup and came next to his father, resting a hand on his shoulder. "What happened, Henry? It's not Jo again, is it?"

Although at long last it had seemed that Henry would have to divulge his true age to the detective a few months prior, and Abe had thought his father would do exactly that, he'd instead invented a cockamamie story about a father-in-law with a love of old photography, an Abigail who came into his life already having a son, and a separation made completely on her part. Not that any of it was actually a lie, but the way he told it, the story was entirely untrue. Jo hadn't bought it completely, but she could tell there was some truth to it, and if he wasn't ready to tell it all, he'd at least told her a lot more than she already knew.

"No, thankfully she still believes that your grandfather paid too much attention to detail. Jo Martinez is the least of my worries, Abe. It's the Lieutenant who has frightened me."

"Lieutenant Reece? Wha- what'd she find out?"

"Nothing as of yet, thank goodness. She's been looking at my, er, indecent exposure records."

"And?" Abe returned to the soup and turned off the burner. He ladled out two portions of what was indeed chicken noodle soup, complete with his signature array of spices and specially-marinated chicken, a recipe he may or may not have learned from Abigail. He set the steaming-hot bowl in front of his father, who looked back up at him with that expression of pure defeat.

"And she's seen through my tale of somnambulism. So, in order to get an explanation from me, she has barred my working in the homicide department until I tell her the truth."

"Rough," Abe took a seat next to Henry. The two sipped at spoonfuls of soup for a while, the only sounds the monotonous ticking of the mantle clock and the clinking of spoon against bowl. At long last, Abe turned again to his father. "So when are we gonna tell her?"

"Are you out of your _mind_ , Abraham‽" Henry abandoned his dinner and began pacing a line up and down the kitchen floor. "I can't tell the Lieutenant that I'm _immortal_! She already thinks I'm some sort of borderline lunatic; she'll send me back to therapy, who knows, she could have me locked in a mental ward! Nevertheless, I would definitely lose my job and my credibility even if she _does_ let me walk out of the office alive."

"We do have someone else there who can vouch for you."

"Who…" Henry paused. "Absolutely not!"

"What harm could it be?" Abe shrugged.

Henry stopped and looked his son straight in the eye. "You've never met Lucas, have you?

{•*•*•*•}

"What's this all about, Doc?" Lucas asked nervously as he stepped into Henry's office. "I _swear_ I wasn't the one who contaminated the blood samples with buffalo chicken!"

Henry looked up from his desk to the anxious young man standing in his doorway. "Buffalo… That explains that unidentifiable jumble of molecules within the DNA samples. However, that is not what I wanted to discuss, Lucas. Take a seat, if you would."

The doctor motioned to the seat usually reserved for the next of kin, and his assistant did as told. Henry then rose and locked the door, then turned back to Lucas.

"I have, with the assistance of Liz, shut down the security system in here, replacing it with footage from one of our previous meetings. What I am about to discuss is strictly confidential and does not leave this office with the exceptions of which I will inform you."

"Is this about your-"

"My condition, yes. It is imperative that you-"

"You figured out how to pass it on, didn't you? Dr. Henry Morgan, mad scientist, is about to create the first scientifically engineered immortal, and I am the lucky one chosen for the honor. We'll be known all around the world-"

"Lucas." Henry stopped him, meanwhile wondering why he had ever told the young man the secret to begin with. "I am not about to experiment on you. I actually need you to help me out with something. You may have been wondering why I have been doing a lot more paperwork and many fewer autopsies in the past few days."

"I just thought the crime rate was going down. I mean, you're the best, so…"

"Sadly, the human condition remains as futile and bleak as before. No, Lucas, I have not been performing as many autopsies, nor as gruesome or complicated affairs, because the Lieutenant refuses to have someone work for her department that has taken as many unexplainable swims in the East River as I."

A light of revelation dawned in Lucas' eyes. "Wait, so you're gonna tell Reece you're immortal?"

"If I wish to remain in her employ, I have no other choice. And I very much wish to remain in this employ."

"So you and Jo have a thing." A sly smile crept up Lucas' face. Henry furrowed his brow, but a certain redness came to his cheeks.

"Detective Martinez and I do not have a 'thing.'" He said defensively, complete with air quotes, but adding in aside, "I just happen to enjoy her company."

"You two definitely have a thing."

Henry glared at his assistant.

"Okay, so… Lieu?" Lucas awkwardly shoved the conversation back onto its original trajectory. "What do you need me to do, Doc?"

"I wish you to sup with me."

Lucas returned a blank stare.

"Come over for dinner."

"Oh. In that case, I'm there."

{•*•*•*•}

It was an odd gathering at the Morgan dinner table that night. At the head of the table was, of course, the head of the family, his son seated across from him. To any passerby, and in fact to one of the party, it seemed that this was a falsity, and that the son would have been the father and vice versa. Then again, with only four diners, seated at a square table, the head of the table was hard to define. The other two diners were a nervous and awkward young man, tall and lanky, and juxtaposed across from him, an intimidating sort of woman, who carried herself with confidence and looked every bit the authority she was.

Joanna Reece had been surprised by the handwritten letter on her desk that morning, very formally inviting her to dinner at Henry and Abe's apartment. She called down to his office and accepted the invitation, assuming and therefore hoping this would be his way of explaining himself to her. Henry was a very _unique_ man, she reminded herself, and he would be the person to have a formal dinner planned for something as simple as explaining a file of public indecency charges that rivaled the length of decent-sized novels.

What surprised her more was the fact that Lucas was also at this dinner. She was at first a bit adverse to his presence, but then reminded herself of Henry and his strange ways, and managed to accept Lucas' presence. Accept, but not necessarily enjoy.

She did, however, enjoy the meal itself. She had only met Abe in passing the few times she had been at the apartment, which always involved official police work, and thus had no idea of the man's culinary prowess. The official name of the dish was something difficult to pronounce, but in no way was it difficult to savor the wonderful combination of meat and vegetable and spice. This, adding to the fact that conversation among the unexpected foursome would be awkward in and of itself, led to a very silent dining experience.

"I would presume that you all are wondering why I have gathered you all here tonight," Henry finally spoke, crossing his fork and knife on the empty plate in front of him. "Lieutenant, you deserve an explanation of my actions, and Abe and Lucas can corroborate my story. You told me once that the truth was never complicated, but I fear that this truth is a bit abstruse."

Reece sat back in her chair, her focus locked on Henry. "Let's hear it."

"I'm not quite sure how to word this, but—"

"He's _immortal!"_

Henry glared at Lucas.

"Oh, come on, Doc, do you know how hard that's been to keep secret for the past seven months? _Very_ hard, okay?"

Henry sighed. "I sometimes wonder what made me consider you a confidant in this matter. Anyhow," He turned his attention from the assistant to his superior, "I do indeed have a certain condition, thought somnambulism it is not. Let us go back to the incidents involving myself on September twenty-first."

Henry rose from his seat and began his explanation, slowly pacing back and forth behind his chair. Reece completely dismissed Lucas' declaration and kept her focus on Henry.

"At precisely 6:35 PM, a subway train derailed, killing the conductor and all fourteen passengers aboard the first car. Five minutes later, I am brought into the precinct and booked for public indecency. The next day, through the investigation of the subway accident, Detective Martinez discovers footage of me boarding the fatal car of the subway train, carrying a pocket watch that was found in the wreckage.

"Now, Lieutenant, you yourself pointed out the inconsistencies in this timeline. How was I supposed to get off of a moving subway train, travel halfway across the city, undress, fall asleep, sleepwalk into the river, be caught by the police, driven to the station, and booked for my misdeed, all in five minutes' time? It simply isn't feasible!

"Unless, of course, I never disembarked the subway. And somehow, I had a sort of condition that allowed me to, shall we say, _teleport_ to the nearest body of water. Now, tell me, Lieutenant, do you remember in the case notes that there were found pieces of cloth with remnants of dried blood snagged on a fallen subway railing?"

Henry moved to the bookshelf, where he pulled a file folder from between copies of Hemingway novels.

"I returned the lab results as inconclusive, but I must correct my first wrong—I lied. Here are the real results of the tests."

Reece barely had the time to read Henry's name in the box labeled "DNA Match" before he continued with his bizarre story.

"That is not the result of a contamination in the lab, by the way. It truly was my blood that was found at the crime scene, because, as was so well-documented by the security cameras, I was aboard that subway train. Yet not two minutes later, I was discovered by two very kind members of our precinct walking naked on the shore of the East River. What do you make of that, Lieutenant?"

Joanna Reece sat dumbfounded for a full minute. "I'm not quite sure what to say to that, Henry. It simply doesn't make sense."

"Precisely." Henry paused. "It _doesn't make sense._ Just as what I am about to tell you."

He took a deep breath, gathering equal parts courage and oxygen, running through the words in his mind and decided that the most straightforward explanation, no matter how fantastical, was his best choice.

"I am immortal. When I die, I reappear unclothed in the nearest body of water. This has been happening to me for the past two centuries with no logical explanation, reasoning, or scientific proof. Both Abraham and Lucas can attest to the accuracy of these statements."

Before Reece could utter a word, Henry bowed out of the room, leaving her bewildered expression to be directed to the corroborators.

{•*•*•*•}

"Hey, Doc, I just want to apologize… I mean, I just was nervous and I didn't know what to say and I feel like she really took it the wrong way and…"

Lucas stopped in his tracks at the sight of the corpse on the autopsy table. Henry was bent over the body of the middle-aged female, carefully lifting a fingerprint from her cheek.

"Is that what I think it is?"

The doctor finished lifting the print and set it with a few others to be put into the database. "If you're thinking along the lines of one of those monsters that erupts from the corpse and terrorizes the city, then no. If you're thinking a murder victim, then yes."

"But Doc… I thought Lieu pulled you off homicide?"

"When presented with the fact that one's employee created his very field of expertise, one tends to keep that employee among one's hire. Especially when his position will never become vacant."

"So she believed it?"

"Believed what?" Jo pushed open the door to the autopsy suite. "Did Henry tell you that weird story about his ex-father-in-law's photography shtick too?"

Smirking, she leaned up against the table that held Henry's unused medical instruments. She'd learned from one too many cringe-worthy close calls with corpses to avoid the autopsy table itself. "You really think I bought that, Henry?"

Lucas stopped his prodding of the body. "Wait, you two have a thing and she doesn't-"

"We do _not_ have a thing!" both declared, a little bit too defensively to make Lucas believe them. It took a moment for Jo to realize what Lucas had been saying, and another to compose her question to Henry.

"I don't what, Henry?"

Henry quickly displaced the shocked expression from his face, more from Lucas almost revealing the secret yet again than Jo catching the assistant's mistake. "I had a bit of a disagreement with the Lieutenant, but it's all settled now. Nothing you need to worry about."


End file.
